Koehler watched on as Alyssa and Elora talked about things, and it got him thinking how weird this all is, really. Young men and women piloting gigantic war-machines against some alien force. This wasn't regular at all, was it? Of course, they were all likely irregular people. It's natural for irregular individuals to do irregular things. As well, too much regularity was simply boring. Hell, with friends like these, who needs enemies? With all of these other folks being so needlessly aggressive... Why was that Yeshua kid so sassy, and such an asshole? Harold had to admit though, that was one hell of a comment. Perfectly executed, really. At least it was a good one. Koehler did however have a complete change in his train of thought. He realized how fucking great this was going to be, especially tomorrow, what with being actually trained in martial arts... He knew how to punch someone very, very hard, but actually knowing a 'real' combat technique was going to be one hell of a boon. And since 'Roxy', his Framework, was quite easy to articulate, being a dedicated melee frame, his effectiveness in that will also be severely increased, most likely. He then got another idea. What if they had to pair up and spar..? He definitely knew who he was going to pick, if that did happen. Also of course assuming he could pick. Knocking Yeshua on his ass would teach him some manners, most certainly. Right? He'd certainly win in that situation, what with already being experienced, if not trained, and simply being stronger, as well as larger, already. His mind wandered... [color=92278f]"Shalom, Koehler."[/color] Yeshua almost whispered, only about two feet behind his left ear. [color=92278f]"For someone who complained about contemplation, you're doing a marginal amount of it yourself."[/color] Koehler quickly turned, a faint smile barely forming. [color=fff200]"Yeah, Salami to you too. The hell does that mean?"[/color] [color=92278f]"It means you're still a fucking idiot, Koehler."[/color] Yeshua remarked, no smile forming on his lips. [color=fff200]"Well, you're still an asshat. What do you want from me right now?"[/color], Harold replied, a bit coldly. A height of interest peaked in his voice as the boy's glasses became illuminated by the white, cold lights in the room. It was obvious that he was interested in what he was talking about. His hands shuffled in his pockets. [color=92278f]"I am not sure if you know this, but you were the person to call yourself that first. I'm merely repeating that, given how much evidence there is to prove that this is the case. We are both Humanity's last defense against an unstoppable foe, so it would be childish for you to jeapordise our capabilites as a unit just because of this phrase. Be sure to remember I mean no offense by it."[/color] [color=fff200]"Oh, you don't mean any offense in calling me an idiot? Look, I handled that really fucking horribly. I did try to say what I mean. I'm worried because you were thinking so hard about... what? What the hell were you contemplating? I was just thinking about combat scenarios and how this 'star-fist' they'll be teaching us will help me out on the field. My frame's a fighter, so knowing how to punch shit with an actually good technique should help me out. Right?"[/color] [color=92278f]"It isn't a surprise that the only thing you have thought about since coming here is violence. For young men it is either that, or sex. My contemplation was about my detoriating self image, as I had almost purposefully hurt myself earlier in that cockpit after my sudden and abrupt failure. You didn't try hard to understand my situation but I appluad you for trying to communicate. Empathy is a rare resource in the fields of a young person's mind."[/color] Yeshua became distant and his voice became that of someone reading a long poem, or a psalm in front of a church, an ethereal voice appearing between the words he spoke. Koehler's voice, in contrast, turned irritable. Annoyed. [color=fff200]"Where the hell are you from, anyway? I can't believe people like you exist. My problem with you is... Well... I can't fucking explain it to you it seems. What exactly are you saying even? I can't tell with all of the needless bullshit coming out as well. Is that a compliment? Or a put-down? One sentence you're trying to hurt, the other you're trying to heal? What the fuck is that?"[/color] Yeshua seemed to be quite amused by the outcomes of the conversation. His shaggy hair became a visor for his eyes. [color=92278f]"The true mark of an imbecile is if they know they're being insulted. What I'm trying to say, Koehler, is that if my predictions are correct then I hate you an order of magnitude above how much you hate me. But I'm not trembling like a sweaty drug addict, am I?"[/color] The aforementioned 'Sweaty drug addict' was still confused on just what this man was trying to accomplish. Really, praising him for his empathy, then going on about hate? This man would be a wonderous politician, really. He seems like he could do a 180 faster then any other man Koehler ever knew. He stopped moving completely, stopping his little fidgets, and breathed in before he asked. [color=fff200]"As I said... What do you want? Are you analyzing me so you can break me later? Are you trying to break me now? Do you have such little faith in... Me, I presume, that you want me to thrash out at you because of your comments and get thrown out?"[/color] [color=fff200]"What the hell is your game plan here? With no snark, no insults, and just bluntly, why are you in my face, right now? If you hate me so, why do you continue to talk to me?"[/color] As the young man's meandering around a very simple point finally came to a crashing halt, Yeshua rolled his eyes under his thick hair and glasses. His right hand, previous firmly in his pocket, was moved out in a friendly gesture. His voice sounded almost solemn as his gaze did not match Koehler's. [color=92278f]"I'm trying to be your friend." [/color] That answer severely worried Koehler. He responded. [color=fff200]"...Define 'Friend' as you see it. What does the word mean to you? Answer that for me."[/color], and waited for Yeshua's response. [color=92278f]"A friend is someone . . ."[/color] Yeshua stopped halfway into his sentence, suddenly loosing his cool and out of the corner of his eye, spotted Alyssa talking to Elora. The latter young girl was now smiling and seemed happy, unlike the state he had put her in. Yeshua's hand shook slightly before he put it back into his pocket. He dared to open his mouth again. [color=92278f]"A friend is someone who wants the best for you."[/color] [color=fff200]"Is that so? You're certain?"[/color] [color=92278f]"Ani lo yodéʿa, Koehler." [/color] [color=fff200]"To me... a friend is someone I'd die for. Do you understand that definition?"[/color] [color=92278f]"I'd never die for anyone."[/color] Yeshua bitterly remarked, suddenly regaining his razor-sharp composure. His eyes shot at Koehler's yet again. Koehler looked at Yeshua straight in the eyes, oddly piercing into his. A strange emotion revealed itself, a mixture of dissapointment, worry, possibly. Although it was uncertain. [color=fff200]"I wouldn't die for you either, then."[/color], He bluntly responded. The words almost cut into Yeshua, if he wasn't in another world as he spoke. He had become a wraith, his ankles hanging a foot from the floor and seeing into the world through the eyes of a 15 year old boy. Had he not been training to save the human race, he would have been the best of his craft, a carpenter, a politician, an artist or a sportsman. Whatever he wanted to do, he would do it. Even a ghost had impossible tasks. He had never made anyone like him. [color=92278f]"I sincerely hope that it won't matter either way." [/color] Harold responded simply. As an afterthought, really. [color=fff200]"I hope so too."[/color] With no more words but a thousand lost tears, Yeshua sat down on the nearest bench and placed his hands on his mouth, feigning deep thought. His thought wasn't deep, the boy realised, it was shallow and naive. Somehow, it still got to him. This was the scariest thought for him, his weakness - his mortality. He wouldn't die for anyone, not even himself. Yeshua thought that right now, death had never looked so welcoming.